“If you awnly knawed the half I’ve suffered before they forced me, you’d forgive,” she said. His frank pardon she could hardly realise. It seemed altogether beyond the desert of her weakness.
“Let that bide. It’s the future now. Clem’s told me everything. Awnly you and him an’ Chris knaw I’m here. Chris will serve ’e. Us must play a hidden game, an’ fight this Grimbal chap as he fought me—behind back. Listen; to-day fortnight you an’ me ’m gwaine to be married afore the registrar to Newton Abbot. He ’m my awn Uncle Ford, as luck has it, an’ quite o’ my way o’ thinkin’ when I told him how ’t was, an’ that Jan Grimbal was gwaine to marry you against your will. He advised me, and I’m biding in Newton for next two weeks, so as the thing comes out right by law. But you’ve got to keep it still as death.”
“If I could awnly fly this instant moment with ’e!”
“You caan’t. ’T would spoil all. You must stop home, an’ hear your banns put up with Grimbal, an’ all the rest of it. Wish I could! Meat an’ drink ’t would be, by God! But he’ll get his pay all right. An’ afore the day comes, you nip off to Newton, an’ I’ll meet ’e, an’ us’ll be married in a wink, an’ you’ll be back home again to Monks Barton ’fore you knaw it.”
“Is that the awnly way? Oh, Will, how terrible!”
“God knaws I’ve done worse ’n that. But no man’s gwaine to steal the maid of my choosin’ from me while I’ve got brains and body to prevent it.”
“Let me look at you, lovey—just the same, just the same! ’Tis glorious to hear your voice again. But this thin coat, so butivul in shaape, tu! You ’m a gentleman by the look of it; but ’t is summer wear, not winter.”
“Ess, ’tis cold enough; an’ I’ve got to get back to Newton to-night. An’ never breathe that man’s name no more. I’ll shaw ’e wat ’s a man an’ what ban’t. Steal my true love, would ’e?—God forgive un, I shaan’t—not till we ’m man an’ wife, anyway. Then I might. Give ’e up! Be I a chap as chaanges? Never—never yet.”
Phoebe wept at these words and pressed Will to her heart.
“’Tis strength, an’ fire, an’ racing blood in me to hear ’e, dear, braave heart. I was that weak without ’e. Now the world ’s a new plaace, an’ I doan’t doubt fust thought was right, for all they said. I’ll meet ’e as you bid me, an’ nothin’ shall ever keep me from ’e now—nothing!”